My Life is a Crappy Sitcom
by notisaidthefox
Summary: RvB. The Reds get an upstart of a woman as their new rookie, and she gets put on babysitting duty. Little does she realize what a handful it will be. SimmonsOC/GrifOC. Undecided. Rated M for possible later chapters and language. INDEFINITE HIATUS.
1. Babysitting Duty

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** Well, I've decided to take a break from my Harry Potter fanfic and write a little something on the side, this time based on the amazingly funny Red vs. Blue. Forgive me, for I've only watched the first six episodes, but I already love Simmons and Grif, so I decided to whip up an OC and throw in a bit of humor. More is to come, just please be patient. Also, kind constructive criticism is welcome, as I'm sure to have many mistakes about the characters.

* * *

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," she snorted, taking off her helmet as though the view would somehow change into something less unpleasant. A gruff Red was barking orders at his subordinates, and one in particular was starting to bug her.

"Anything you say, sir!" shouted a private in deep maroon colored armor. To see somebody suck up so much to a superior made Lori's stomach turn. She dearly hoped that she would see as little as possible of him.

"You! Get down here!" barked Sarge, waving to Lori from the bottom of the hill she was standing on. "I don't care if you're new; you've got work to do!" Lori grimaced and marched down the hill until she came within four feet of him.

"You rang?" she drawled, leaning on her gigantic sniper rifle, which she affectionately named Trixie. Sarge looked over a clipboard he held in one hand.

"Georgiana Maryanne Lori… God damn, got a long enough name?" he muttered, waving away her bubbling retort with his other hand. "Oh well, it doesn't matter. Says here you're a damn good shot with that rifle." Lori squared her shoulders with pride, smirking.

"Yes, sir," she replied, tapping her nose knowingly. Sarge paused for a moment.

"I'm putting you on as watch," he said abruptly. Lori's jaw dropped in horror.

"WHAT?!" she exclaimed. "But you just said—!"

"Someone's got to get these boys in line," Sarge said loudly over her angry spluttering. "If you can whip 'em into shape, then I'll let you handle infiltration of the Blues' base." Lori was quiet for a moment, and then she scoffed.

"I'll have them falling in quicker than you can say 'Ghost,'" she spouted confidently. Sarge only nodded curtly as she passed him to get to the building that housed the bunks. Her room was down at the end of the hall, next to one that had a door emblazoned with Dutch and Irish crests. Lori only snorted and shook her head, dropping her duffel onto her small mattress and shoving Trixie under the bed.

She turned as she heard the clink of metal on metal nearing her room, and the next thing she knew, a rather good looking man appeared in the doorway. His helmet was under his arm, bright maroon in color.

The man himself was clean shaven, with dirty blonde hair that was a bit shaggy for a crew cut and bright green eyes. He had an air of smugness and duty about him, but Lori remembered seeing him out on the field sucking up to Sarge; she wasn't fooled for a second. Deciding it would be best to hold off introducing herself, Lori instead occupied her time by clipping up her brown and blonde highlighted hair.

"Welcome to hell," the maroon private smirked. Lori gave him a steady look, unimpressed.

"Been there. It's lovely in the winter," she replied. "And you are?"

"Private First Class Dick Simmons," he recited proudly, puffing out his chest.

"Shame, I figured your last name would be Head, considering how much of a suck up you are."

"And your name?" Simmons asked, ignoring her remark.

"Just call me Lori," the grey-eyed woman responded. She pulled off her upper body armor, revealing a slim, toned figure with small breasts covered by a white tank top. "Sarge put me in charge as babysitter for you lot, but seeing as you're his lapdog already, you and I shouldn't have any problems." Simmons nodded, stroking his chin.

"Guess I'll just have to make your life here a living hell to make up for that," he replied, grinning at her. Lori smirked dryly at him.

"Bring it on, Magenta Man."

"It's maroon," he corrected her. "You know, a shade of red."

"Yeah, but Magenta just has such a nice ring to it. Don't you think?"

"And I'm sure fire engine red is very popular with ages six and under."

Lori opened her mouth to offer a smart retort, but then Sarge's voice blared deafeningly over the loudspeakers, telling the team that there was a truckload of food that had better get eaten or it would be thrown to the Blues. Simmons immediately swept out of the room, but Lori hung back for a moment, digesting her first half hour with the Reds.

Yup, this was going to suck.


	2. SOB

Lori strolled down to the mess hall, glad to have something to eat; she hadn't eaten yet that day. She slumped down at the single long steel table, rubbing her temples. It felt good to be out of her bulky armor, if only for a little while, though her sweat pants didn't exactly flatter her ample backside any more than her armor did. Shrugging to herself, Lori grabbed the nearest bowl, which contained what was supposed to be minestrone soup. It tasted like extremely salty chicken broth with a hodgepodge of vegetables and meat thrown in. She made a mental note to talk to Sarge about getting new cooking staff.

Her dissatisfied musings were broken by another one of the Reds, this one in orange armor. His hair was dark brown to match his eyes, and a persistent five o'clock shadow decorated his chin. He grinned cheerily at her as he plopped down across from her.

"You must be the new rookie," he said, offering an armored hand across the table. Lori nodded, her mouth slightly open and her soup spoon halfway to her mouth, though she didn't shake his hand. She figured he'd probably crush hers on accident.

"Name's Grif," he offered conversationally, helping himself to a plate of mashed potatoes.

"Lori," she replied, swallowing some soup with some difficulty; the salt was getting to her. Grif was about to say something when Simmons showed up, unfortunately taking a seat next to Lori. The young woman found her lip unconsciously curling in disgust. Simmons dumped a heavily laden tray on the table, sitting far closer to Lori than was necessary. Giving him a wilting look, Lori went back to her soup, which was threatening to make her gag. As she lifted the spoon to her mouth, Simmons' elbow came out of nowhere, clipping her in the collar bone and causing her to spill the soup all over the front of her tank top.

"Son of a BITCH!" she yelled loudly, jumping up.

"My bad," Simmons said, snorting with laughter.

"No worries, Dick," Lori replied venomously, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Let me just grab a napkin." She reached over for a pile of napkins that sat in the middle of the table, but just as she was about to grab one, she grabbed the edge of Simmons' tray and dumped all of its contents into his lap. Grif, who had been silently watching, doubled over in laughter. Lori smirked.

"Oops, _my bad_," she mimicked, turning to flounce out of the hall.

She wasn't expecting a sudden bear hug from behind.

A sickening squelching noise and an unpleasant squishy wetness covered her back. Lori struggled, jabbing backwards with her elbow into Simmons' chest. She needn't have done so, for he released her willingly, whooping with triumph.

"You sick bastard," Lori muttered, shuddering with disgust. She turned to regard Simmons, his tight muscle shirt covered in bits of food.

"Bow chicka bow wow," was all he said in reply, doing something of a victory dance. Lori only balled her hands into fists and ground her teeth, marching out of the mess hall in high anger.

Mercifully, Sarge had provided Lori with her own bathroom, so she allowed herself a steaming hot shower in which she scrubbed herself thoroughly, making sure none of the food remained on her body. She had washed her clothes twice to make sure they were cleaned properly as well.

Lori stretched luxuriously after turning off the water. Showers always helped her mood; she even started humming tunelessly as she wrapped her towel around her. Grabbing her clip from the sink counter, she put up her shoulder length hair and opened the door to her room. She had laid out a change of clothes at the foot of her bed. With her back to her closed door, Lori let her towel drop to the floor as she reached for her clothes.

"You know, you've got the cutest mole on that tight little ass of yours."

"EAT .300 CALIBER, MOTHER FUCKER!" Lori screeched, recovering herself with her towel while simultaneously grabbing Trixie and letting loose a hail of bullets in Simmons' direction. He rolled to his left, out of harm's way, but one bullet grazed his calf. Lori dressed in a blur, storming out of her room after him, Trixie in hand and a maniacal look in her eyes. Simmons gingerly got to his feet, wincing a little.

"Ow… that stings," he remarked, examining the red mark the bullet had left.

"Got a death wish, Simmons?" Lori asked through clenched teeth, poking him in the chest with her rifle. He raised his hands in surrender.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry. Back off already. Please," he added when she pointed the gun at his head. For a moment Lori just cast him a steely glare in silence, then deciding to hit him across the face with her gun. Simmons grunted in pain, clutching his newly bleeding lip.

"If there's one thing I hate, it's peeping toms. Don't _ever _let me catch you doing that again, or I just might kill you next time." Simmons gave her a sour look, wiping blood from his mouth.

"Punishment and warning accepted," he drawled sarcastically. "Though… that mole on your ass is a definite turn-on. No joke." He smiled hopefully, but Lori's expression clearly said: 'Fuck off.'

"Go away," she said, her voice shaking with rage.

So he did, smirking to himself as he limped to his room.

Lori slunk back to her room, feeling sick with embarrassment as well as completely enraged with Simmons. To think he had such nerve! She angrily shoved Trixie back under her bed and crawled under her bed covers, refusing to go down to the mess hall when dinner was called. After all, she needed time to formulate a plan for revenge. Still, she just couldn't understand the lengths to which Simmons would apparently go to piss her off.

'_Well,' _she thought to herself, _'it takes two to tango.'_


	3. It's Like Being Married

**AUTHOR'S NOTE! PLEASE READ!:** Chapter 3! The title is lame, I know, but it's the best I could come up with. See if you can guess who it is at the end :D Oh, and I'm STILL debating whether Simmons and Lori or Grif and Lori will wind up together. Feedback would be well appreciated on that note. In my mind, Lori and Simmons would have a love/hate relationship, and it would take longer for them to fall for eachother and give you guys more to read, but Lori and Grif would be cute too, but it'd be a lot more unimaginitive in my mind. Maybe there could be a love triangle?? **I need some ideas, people! **If I don't get any ideas, I can't really write another chapter, you know? Anyway, please enjoy chapter 3! Reviews are very much appreciated!

**Update: 10/02/07: **I have had my journals returned to me by my teacher, so the next chapter of 'It's Like Wizard's Chess' will be written and uploaded as soon as I have time! Also, chapter 4 of my RVB fiction is written, just not typed up. In fact, I'm at school typing this. So, readers, please be patient and wait while I assemble these chapters, and PLEASE check my profile for further updates.

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Sarge's voice blaring over the loudspeakers roused Lori from happy dreams of chasing Simmons with a gigantic chainsaw. With a groan, she rolled out of bed, rubbing sleep from her eyes. Yawning and stretching, she trudged down to the mess hall, clipping her hair up lazily as she went.

Lori took a seat at the table and pulled a bowl of cinnamon oatmeal towards her. She absolutely loved cinnamon oatmeal, almost more than she loved Trixie. Forgetting her manners and remembering how she had skipped dinner the previous night, she shoveled mounds of the sweet mush into her mouth, quickly causing two bowls of the stuff to disappear. Lori didn't care that she looked like a starved orphan; she was hungry, damn it.

"Regretting that you skipped dinner last night?" asked Grif, who had appeared out of nowhere to sit in front of Lori. She froze, her eyes bulging and her cheeks so stuffed with oatmeal that she was reminiscent of a deranged chipmunk. She swallowed hastily, but this caused her to choke and splutter. An armored hand patted her gently on the back at that moment, and she looked up to behold a solider in—was that pink armor?

"Before you say anything, it's not pink. It's lightish red," he stated confidently with a smile. "Try not to inhale your food, okay? Then you won't choke. By the way, I'm Franklin Delano Donut. You must be the babysitter Simmons has been talking about."

"It's only temporary," Lori said stiffly, her anger spiking at the mention of Simmons. "Once Sarge gives me the okay, I'm taking up infiltration." Donut only chuckled.

"Don't get too confident. Our last one didn't last a week."

"Then please don't be offended once I exceed your expectations, Private Donut," Lori replied coolly, going back to her oatmeal. Donut took a seat on her left, reaching for a glass of orange juice.

"Where's Simmons?" Lori asked shrewdly over the rim of her steaming coffee cup.

"Who cares?" Grif replied, looking a little put off. When Lori looked confused, Donut explained that the two of them didn't get along very well.

"Well that makes two of us," Lori said wryly, the previous day's events swimming unpleasantly across her mind's eye.

"He's probably off spit shining Sarge's boots, the pussy," Grif huffed. Lori snorted into her coffee.

"I wouldn't be surprised," she agreed.

"Actually, he appointed me as your partner," Simmons cut in, his shadow falling on Lori like the plague. She turned slowly, complete shock and disbelief etched on her already severe features.

"…WHAT?!" she screamed, slamming a fist on the table. Simmons smirked maliciously.

"Sarge's orders. Says a partnership will help us get along," he explained, not hiding the glee in his voice in any way whatsoever. "We'll be spending nearly every minute of every day with each other, Lori," he went on nostalgically. He lowered his voice to a whisper, muttering down into her ear so that only she could hear. "Just you, me, and that _adorable _little mole on your ass."

"Wait, I heard something about an ass," Donut said, his eyes flicking over to Simmons and Lori. Even Grif had glanced up from his food for a moment, a devious glint in his eye at the mention of their 'babysitter's' finely toned backside. Lori's face flushed with anger, jumping up out of her seat and punching Simmons in the stomach. Simmons grunted, his face twisting a little in pain as he struggled to stay upright.

I'm going to talk to Sarge about this," Lori announced, starting off for the hotheaded Red's office.

"He said no arguments," Simmons called after her, but Lori ignored him, head straight to Sarge's office and pounding insistently on the door. When Sarge didn't come to the door, she barged straight in, not waiting for him to say something before launching into her tirade.

"Sir, Simmons told me that he and I are going to be partners! Partners! Don't you realize what a bad idea it is to put us together?! We HATE each other! This will only make it more difficult for me to do my job! Can't you give me a different partner, or scrap the idea altogether?!"

Sarge sat with his feet propped easily on his desk, giving Lori a steady look. He, being the hardened commander that he was, had not flinched once during Lori's outburst, simply sitting with his arms folded, his expression otherwise unreadable.

"You finished, girlie?" he asked at length, stroking the rough beard on his chin. Lori slumped down in the seat in front of Sarge's desk, looking down at her boots in embarrassment.

"I apologize, sir," she muttered lamely. "That was completely out of line." Sarge chuckled, lighting a cigar.

"I like your spirit, kid. You've got spunk, drive, dedication."

Lori looked up, hoping—praying—that he was going to change his mind.

"You won't get any work done if you don't get along with everyone, Simmons included," Sarge said. "So, until you two can work together, I'm ordering you to keep him close. After all," he added, almost as an afterthought, "he's second in command."

Lori could have gagged.

Instead, she nodded humbly, taking his words with a grain of salt and leaving his office. She was disappointed that she hadn't been able to change Sarge's mind, but he was the boss and those were his orders. As much as Lori despised Simmons, she had to suck it up and deal with it. So, she decided to start forming a healthier relationship with him by going to check out how his leg was doing. Even she had to admit that turning Trixie on him had been a little extreme.

Now if only she could actually find him.

Even though she had only been in Sarge's office for a few minutes, his ever-obedient lapdog was nowhere in sight.

"Who the hell is he, Houdini?" Lori mused aloud in exasperation. The one time she actually _wanted _to talk to him, he was nowhere to be found. Perfect. Just perfect. Turning down the hallway to check his room, she ran slap bang into Grif, which hurt considering he was heading outside with his armor on.

"Ouch," hissed Lori, wincing a little as she stumbled back.

"Oh, hey, sorry about that," Grif smiled, scratching the back of his head apologetically. Lori smiled back, patting the air dismissively.

"No, that's all right. Have you seen Simmons?" she asked. Grif tapped his chin thoughtfully, but Lori did not miss the dark cloud that passed over his face.

"Hmm… I thought I saw him outside cleaning the Warthog, but he might have come back in for some water." He shrugged, jamming his helmet on his head. "By the way," he said, his voice metallic sounding through the helmet, "are you hot or something? Your face looks a little red." Lori blinked slowly, confused and then shook her head.

"No, I'm fine," she replied, a little set off balance. Grif nodded and moved past her, and Lori dashed into her room to get her armor on. Something in the back of her mind nagged her, though. Why had her face gotten so red? She hadn't been embarrassed, angry or overheated. So, that could only mean that she had been blushing.

'_But I don't blush,'_ she thought to herself.

And why would she?

Still musing to herself in confusion, Lori made sure her armor was on properly and went outside. Sure enough, Simmons was out with the Warthog. He was not only cleaning, but polishing it. It was so shiny that it could have easily been used as a mirror, yet Simmons was still polishing it furiously. Lori spotted a good sized rock near her foot.

The opportunity was too tempting to pass up.

Since Simmons was so absorbed in his polishing, Lori didn't need to be quiet. Grabbing the rock, she hefted it neatly across the field. The ensuing clunk and Simmons' stream of cursing was more than satisfying. He whipped around, yanking off his helmet and glaring at her.

"What the hell was that for?!" he demanded, rubbing a rising bump on the back of his head. Lori took off her own helmet, giving him an innocent look.

"I had to get your attention somehow," she replied, striding up to him.

Simmons frowned. "Well, now that you've got it, what do you want?"

"You."

"Seriously? All right! I'm gonna get laid!"

"No, you idiot," Lori snapped. "I wanted to apologize for trying to kill you."

"You mean when I came in your room and saw you naked with that cute little mole on your butt?"

'_Please, let a tank fall from the sky and kill me,' _Lori thought. She spoke through tightly clenched teeth. "Yes, Simmons, that was it."

"Oh… well… apology accepted I guess," he replied, shrugging.

"Good, glad that's over with… I still hate being forced to be your partner. It's like being married."

Simmons grinned. "Maybe we'll even have make up sex," he quipped, tossing her a wink. Lori snorted in disgust.

"Don't get your hopes up."

"Hey," Simmons asked suddenly. "Do you want some water?" Lori raised her eyebrows and frowned.

"No, I'm fine. Why?"

"Your face is all flushed. Are you sure you're not overheating? 'Cause sometimes, when it's really hot like this, I get—"

"I don't want to know," Lori cut him off quickly, unpleasant images assaulting her brain. "Anyway," she said, slumping down beside the Warthog, "did Sarge just want you to come out her to shine up the Warthog or what?"

Simmons plopped down next to Lori, looking out at the monotonous landscape of the valley. He made a thoughtful humming noise. "Yeah, pretty much." Lori raised her eyebrows, frowning a little.

"Pretty much?" she echoed. "Sarge is never 'pretty much' about anything."

"Well," he yawned, raising his arms up and around in a stretch, "he did say that I should be a little nicer to you." He not-so-casually made to let his arm rest around her shoulders, but Lori knew what he was up to. Her arm shot up and grabbed his wrist, shoving it away.

"Try that again and I'll break your wrist in six different places."

"Threat noted," Simmons replied, slumping languidly against one of the Warthog's tires. Lori stared bleakly out at the valley, growing more and more bored by the second.

'_A grenade exploding would be more entertaining than this,' _Lori thought.

She wasn't counting on one suddenly landing between them.

"GRENADE!" Simmons and Lori yelled in unison, diving in opposite directions. As the Warthog that Simmons had so painstakingly polished was flipped clean over by the explosion, a confident, cocky voice echoed across the valley.

"Red blows!"


	4. CTF and Medical Treatment

Without hesitation, Lori chucked a grenade back at the offender, shouting: "SUCK IT, BLUE!" Simmons immediately started firing his pistol, more out of reflex than anything else.

"Sarge! Grif! Donut! We're under attack!" Simmons bellowed over the gunfire. Donut, ever the eager rookie, came running waving his pistol aloft. The offender, a soldier in cobalt blue armor, shot the firearm right out of his hand.

"Owww! You meanie, that hurt!" Donut whined, waving his injured hand in the air.

"Rookie, stop with the homosexual hand gestures and shoot him!" Grif yelled as he ran past.

"You mean he's not a girl?!" Church shouted incredulously.

"No, obviously," Donut replied indignantly.

"GUYS! STOP ARGUING! We're supposed to be fighting _him_! He's a Blue!" Lori roared, waving her arms.

"But he called me a girl," Donut countered, folding his arms.

"Well, now he knows you're not, so ignore it and shoot him," Grif put in.

"Yeah, he's got no back up either!" Simmons added.

Well, he didn't until Simmons was shot in the foot.

"Son of a BITCH!" he howled, hopping up and down on his uninjured foot.

"Tucker! Tucker! I did it! I shot a Red!" Caboose declared, veritably dancing with happiness, his blue armor glinting in the sunlight.

"Good, now do it again," Tucker replied from his post at the flag. There was no way he was going to let the Reds get their flag again… but he really wanted to be the one handling the sniper rifle, just once. He sighed, slumping down in his aqua armor at the foot of the flag, doodling in the dirt surrounding him. Guarding the flag was the most boring job in the world.

"Hey, Tucker! Church is heading for the Red base!" Caboose called. "He's going to rescue the princess, just like he said!"

Tucker stifled a laugh before replying. Feed a story like a trapped princess in the Red base to Caboose and he'd shoot anything. "Yup, that's right Caboose. Just like he said."

Grif supported Simmons while Lori looked around for the other Blues.

"Where the hell are they?" she muttered angrily, wishing she had Trixie with her. She had left her rifle back at the base. Donut, being the rookie, had not been assigned a duty, so he simply stood there.

"Hey, guys?" he said timidly after a second.

"What?!" the other three snapped.

"Uh… where'd the first blue guy go?"

The other three were silent for a moment.

"…Shit," they said together.

Meanwhile, atop the Red base…

"What in th' name o' Sam Hill?!" Sarge barked when he spotted Church running towards the base. "Lopez, git th' Warthog!"

"El Warthog no está funcionando," came the robotic Spanish reply.

"God damn it, private, I didn't ask fer you t' talk! Jus' stop that Blue feller!"

But before either of them could do anything to stop Church, Church had gotten within the base, taken the flag, and started running back to the Blue base.

"SIMMONS!" Sarge roared. "SHOOT THAT COCKBITE!"

"Yes, sir!" Simmons replied from the field, raising his gun. Unfortunately, Church just barreled right through him and Grif. Donut and Lori both moved to shoot him, but in stead wound up colliding with each other, falling to the ground in a heap and giving Church a clear path back to the Blue base.

"Son of a bitch!" Lori yelled as she clambered back to her feet. "Donut, you idiot! Watch where you're going!"

Donut was about to retort when a bullet narrowly missed his head. Grif spoke for all of them.

"Back to the base!"

They ran pell mell back to the safety of the Red base, but not before a bullet pierced Lori's armor, lodging itself just beneath the base of her rib cage on the right side. She stumbled and grunted but stayed upright, knowing that if she didn't get back to base, she'd get more than just one bullet wound.

As she reached the base, Lori fell through the doorway, gasping both in pain and in exhaustion. She was made for short sprints, not long-distance running with a bullet lodged in her spleen. Well… it wasn't in her spleen, but it still hurt like hell.

"MAN—er—WOMAN DOWN!" bellowed Donut, who had reached the base just behind Lori. He ran off to get Sarge and Grif, the other two that hadn't been injured and Lopez, though a robot stuck on the Spanish setting wouldn't help much. Lori could only lie there, flat on her stomach, struggling to stay conscious.

"M… medic," she managed to gurgle. Her vision swam and flickered, but she caught sight of a pair of orange boots before she blacked out.

The first thing Lori noticed when she woke was that she was cold—freezing actually, but her forehead was damp with sweat. Her lips trembled violently now that she was awake, the bright lights of the recovery room stinging her eyes. A thin pair of pants and a loose t-shirt covered her sweat drenched body. Her brain was foggy—she must have recently been under anesthesia. Her lower back throbbed with hot, sharp pain. With some difficulty she sat up, looking around the room.

Stainless steel cabinets were all that decorated the room besides the metal table that Lori had been placed on. To her left was a window that showed a room beyond it housing several monitors and other technical equipment. To her right was a large steel door, closed but probably not locked.

Wincing, Lori carefully slid off the table and hobbled towards the door. She grasped the handle as firmly as she could manage through the numbing effects of the anesthesia. Wiping sweat and a few limp strands of her hair from her face, she turned the handle. As she had suspected, the door was not locked and swung inward. She didn't know why she went down the hall towards her room, but she did know that she hated the recovery room and wanted to be away from it as quickly as possible. The only thing she liked being surgically clean was Trixie. Anything beyond that just creeped her out.

As she reached the corner of the hall of rooms and the medical wing, she leaned heavily against the wall, breathing laboriously and feeling dizzy. _'Maybe that wasn't such a great idea,' _she thought to herself, sliding down the wall a little.

"Lori!" a concerned voice called out. She looked up to see Dexter Grif jogging towards her, worry etched on his rugged features.

"I'm fine," she mumbled as Grif moved to support her.

"You got shot, we have no medic, and you're walking around. You're not fine," Grif said firmly, slinging one of her arms over his broad shoulders. "It's a good thing I was coming to check on you—"

"You were the one that patched me up?" Lori interrupted suddenly, remembering his orange armor before she had blacked out earlier.

"I took a couple med classes back in college," Grif shrugged as he led her back to the recovery room. "I managed to get the bullet out and sorta stitch it up, but I'm not the best, and the anesthetic was kinda tricky—"

"You've never given someone anesthesia?" Lori asked.

"Well… strictly speaking… that is… no."

"So you could have killed me with an overdose?"

"Well… yeah, I guess."

If Lori hadn't been so shocked and disoriented, she would have hit him and called him an idiot. Instead, though, she decided to be nice. It took less energy.

"Well… I'm glad you didn't."

"Yeah, that would have sucked so badly."

They reached the recovery room and Grif helped Lori carefully back onto the table. He had her sit facing away from him so he could lift the back of her shirt and inspect the wound. Grif's makeshift stitches had indeed torn and bled through her shirt, the loss of blood making Lori dizzy. Lori looked back at him from over her shoulder.

"How bad is it?" she asked. Grif moved his fingers gently around the wound, examining it closely

Lori felt her skin tingle.

"Well, it's not bad, but you'll need to rest for a few days. Strict bed rest and all that."

"Damn… and now I have blood all over my shirt," she groaned.

Grif pulled his shirt off without hesitation and offered it to her. "Here, it's fresh from the laundry." Lori gaped like a fish out of water, slowly turning to face him. Until now, she had never noticed how _attractive _Grif was. He had a broad chest with similar sloping shoulders, very well defined muscles, a rugged and constant five o'clock shadow, dark, soft looking brown hair, and chocolate eyes. He had a tough square jaw and a rectangular visage, but his facial expression was soft.

"Uh… are you gonna take it or not?" he asked, his words stopping Lori from drooling.

"Oh! Er, yeah… thanks a lot, Grif."

He smiled. "No problem. Here, let me fix things up first," he said, pulling open a drawer and pulling out some bandages. He placed them gingerly over the wound and taped it up nicely, then handed her his shirt. Lori, having mastered the art of changing in public without exposing herself, quickly put on the shirt. It was warm and smelled clean, but it also smelled like some sort of spice. Either way, it made her think of Grif. It took everything she had not to smile like a schoolgirl with a crush. Then quite suddenly she remembered something.

"Grif… since you were the one that fixed me up… does that mean you…?" Grif shifted uncomfortably and cleared his throat.

"I didn't look on purpose!" Lori gave him a steady look.

"Okay… then medical purposes aside, why did you?" She braced herself, knowing exactly what he was going to say.

"Well… I wanted to see if you really do have that little mole that Simmons was talking about." Lori groaned in exasperation.

'_Men,' _she thought in disgust.

I had to turn you over anyway to get to the wound," Grif pointed out. "Plus…" his voice softened. "It _is _cute." Lori paused, a warmth that was becoming increasingly familiar spreading across her face.

"Shut up, Grif," she said with a smile.

He saluted her and grinned. "Yes, ma'am."


	5. Damsel in Distress

Wow guys, I am so sorry about the wait. I just had writer's block for the longest time. I really had run out of ideas, but a couple days ago, I just sat down and started writing for the sake of writing, and I came up with a few ideas. Also, after you all have finished with this chapter, please check out my polls. One of them in particular could sway me in how I intend to end this fic. Thanks again for your patience with me, and I apologize again for the wait.

* * *

Breakfast the next morning was an unusually quiet affair. Sarge had actually come down to the dining hall to eat with the rest of the team, but the look on his chiseled features was grave. Simmons hadn't said a word; Grif was twiddling his thumbs idly; Donut sat and stared into space, and Lori chewed her lower lip, her arms crossed in agitation. 

"Team," began Sarge in a serious tone, "yesterday marked a tragic event in history."

"World War II?" Donut piped up.

"No, you moron! The capture of our flag!" snapped Simmons. The maroon clad soldier had been edgy since he had let the flag be taken. Simmons glanced at Lori for a moment, his jaw tight. Sarge cleared his throat and continued.

"We need a plan," he stated plainly. "I vote that Grif plays th' decoy."

"Whoop de fucking do," Grif cheered lamely.

"Donut will stay here with me an' guard th' base," Sarge went on. "Simmons, you an' Lori will infiltrate the Blue base an' git the flag back.

"Sir, with all due respect, I just had a bullet removed from my spleen," Lori cut in, laughing nervously. "Plus, Simmons and I—"

"DID I ASK FER YER OPINION?!" Sarge bellowed as he slammed a fist down on the table. "I have given you an ORDER, private!"

Lori bowed her head and mumbled, "Yes sir."

"We'll… we'll get the flag back, sir," said Simmons, though his tone was not as usually confident or sure.

Lori felt a cold, dead feeling in her stomach. All of sudden, the military did not seem so great, and all because she hadn't done her job of protecting the flag. If she had, this wouldn't have happened—she was sure of it. Now, though… now they had screwed up, and she would have to help fix everything.

Grif's diversion was perfect. Using the Warthog, he had driven straight towards the base, causing mayhem on the Blue side with several fired shots and of course, that incredible music. While the Blues were distracted by Grif's, well, unique maneuvering, Simmons and Lori kept to the edge of Blood Gulch. The heat was stifling, causing the pair to be even more hostile towards each other. In fact, though they had only been out there for a few hours, they were quite fed up with one another. The only thing that kept them from beating each other senseless was their individual wounds, and thankfully, sighting a small cave.

"Thanks to every god in heaven," Lori sighed, wiping her brow as she took off her helmet. Inside the cave, it was pleasantly cool, and there was also a small pool with fresh, clean water.

"You mean thanks to me for spotting this place," Simmons corrected, kneeling at the edge of the pool and splashing water on his face. His dishwater blonde, crew cut hair grew spiky with the moisture, making his head look like something of a porcupine.

Lori scoffed. "Excuse me, but it was ME that spotted it, not you. _You _were too busy complaining about how hot it was and how much your damn foot hurt."

Simmons snorted but didn't argue. He just didn't have the energy. Lori, who had stripped off her armor, lifted her tank top to change the bandage on her torso. She knelt next to Simmons at the edge of the pool, gritting her teeth as she carefully bathed the wound.

Simmons sighed and plopped down a short distance away. Why had Sarge made the two of them go get the flag? He and Lori _hated _each other. He frowned and waited for Lori to finish changing her bandage.

"I think we should wait until it's dark," he said when Lori stood up. His wounded and irritated companion made an exasperated motion and sat down again.

"Fine," she said shortly, folding her arms.

There was a very long, tense silence.

"…I'm sorry," Simmons uttered quietly. Lori shifted in her seat next to the edge of the lake, staring at her reflection in the still water. A frown still occupied her face.

"Don't worry about it," she replied stiffly.

Their conversation after that was minimal and forced. When they got hungry, Lori made them a cold meal, as they couldn't start a fire in the damp cave, and if they made one outside, the Blues would see them. As day wore into night, though, it became increasingly colder. Inside the cave, the moisture chilled the air, and soon they were shivering. So, they decided to make for the flag at the Blue base. Both of them put on their armor and exited the cave. It was much warmer outside.

"It's a shame Grif's distraction was pointless," Lori remarked. He could have been shot, or even killed by those Blues, and that unsettled her.

"It kept _us _from getting shot," Simmons pointed out. Lori shrugged, conceding the point, and nodded toward the Blue base, which loomed ahead.

"Well, let's go get our flag back," Lori said, squaring her shoulders. Simmons nodded, and the two of them crept into the shadows, skirting the base until they reached the back. From their vantage point, they couldn't see anyone guarding the entrance. Now it was just a matter of who would go in first.

"I'll go," Lori whispered.

"But you're hurt—" Simmons started to argue.

"I said I'll go," she repeated with finality, her grip tightening on her gun. "Just… back me up in case anything happens."

"…All right," Simmons replied after a moment.

Without another word, Lori moved stealthily towards the base, pressing her back against the wall space next to the door when she reached it. She slowly leaned forward and peeked inside. With night vision equipment, she could see the masts of two flags, but she couldn't see anyone guarding them. Lori motioned to Simmons, and he crept up to the other side of the door.

In the silence, their soft footsteps seemed magnified tenfold. Lori's jaw tightened as they made their way down the hall into the base. There was still no sign nor sound that the Blues knew they were there. However, this only made them more uneasy. With every passing second, their chances of being found increased.

'_One foot in front of the other,' _Lori recited to herself to keep her wits about her. The two flags were only feet away; now that they had reached the central chamber, the two of them could separate and keep watch for any Blues. Simmons cut to the left and Lori reached out, grasping the flag with both hands. She breathed a sigh of relief when Simmons silently informed her that there were no Blues around. Now they just had to get back to the base and—

"Going somewhere?" asked a smug voice directly in front of Lori.

Simmons made to shoot, but the unknown assailant shot the gun out of his hand before he could even level it. Simmons growled, but raised his hands in surrender; he had no other firearm.

Lori would have tried to help, but someone suddenly restrained her by locking their arms around her torso. She struggled to reach her pistol, but then her restrainer pressed a gun to her helmet.

"D… Damn it," Lori snarled, mad most of all that she hadn't predicted their enemies might have cloaking.

Church disabled his cloaking and removed his helmet, smirking so broadly that he looked as though he had just been promoted to king of Blood Gulch.

"You Reds really do blow," he snickered. "You," Church snapped at Simmons, who shot him a venomous glare, "go back to your base and tell your leader he can have this chick back in exchange for control of your base."

Rage welled up in Lori then, her eyes blazing with fury.

"There's no way in HELL Simmons would agree to that, you cock sucker!" she bellowed, struggling uselessly.

"Do me a favor and shut up, sweetie," Church replied calmly. "Tucker, take her to the bunks and lock her in a room while I negotiate with this Red," he ordered. Tucker sighed.

"Why do I always get the boring jobs?" he whined before dragging Lori away, who struggled without end.

As she was pulled farther and farther away from Simmons, Lori shot him a pleading look, her eyes, which so often burned stoically, flickering with a hint of fear and despair. "Don't listen to him, Simmons!" she shouted. "Forget about me and—" She was cut off by Tucker's armored hand over her visor, and Simmons and Church disappeared from sight.

--

Lori squinted in the bright light of a phosphorescent bulb as Church paced back and forth in front of her, looking exceedingly smug. She was bound to a stiff metal chair, with Tucker's hands resting on her shoulders. Another private sat off in a corner with a set of cards playing solitaire, his armor the standard issue blue. Were it not for her situation, Lori would have wondered why the hell he was playing cards.

"So…" Church said, his voice dripping with sweet triumph, "we finally caught a Red."

"Bite me," Lori sneered, her blood boiling. Church smirked and laughed softly.

"You got spunk. I like that. How about this," he offered, stopping in front of the chair to face her. "You work for us, and we won't touch your precious base."

"She's going to be our princess, right, Church?" the solitaire playing private asked excitedly. Church groaned in exasperation, laying a hand over his eyes.

"Yes, Caboose. Our… princess, yeah. Anyway—"

"Princess?" Lori blurted, finding the notion absurd.

"Don't listen to Caboose," Church said firmly. "Now, as I was saying—"

"But doesn't a princess need pretty dresses and nice things to eat and a prince?" Caboose interrupted again, growing more and more excited. He was already on his feet, hands clasped in his fervor.

"Caboose, shut up," Church said shortly. He was starting to get annoyed.

"Sorry Church… but… who's going to be the prince?" Caboose asked timidly.

"We'll figure that out… later," Church said to placate him. "But right now we need her to give us some information."

"Princesses shouldn't be tied up. They're supposed to be treated nicely!" Caboose argued, hurt in his voice.

"She… has amnesia, so she's scared and violent," Tucker improvised to stop Church's anger from boiling over. "We're trying to get her memory back."

That seemed to satisfy Caboose. "Oh. Well, you could've just said that." With that final statement, Caboose went back to solitaire.

"So tell me about your base, Red," Church began again. "How's it set up? Who's the leader?"

"I'm not telling you a thing," Lori spat coldly. Church's eyes grew steely and he bent down until they were nearly nose to nose.

Lori spat in his face.

The sting she felt on her cheek didn't hurt—it was a reminder that she wouldn't betray her comrades at any cost. Not even Simmons, who had been forced to return to Sarge and the others not only without the flag, but without her. Lori's heart ached as she thought of all of them back at the base, especially Grif. She even felt for Simmons. She felt for Grif for his caring and understanding, and Simmons for his teamwork. She and Simmons had just reached something of an even keel, but now that was useless owing to Lori's capture.

Still, she wouldn't betray her team for anything.

Even though she was now the picture of a damsel in distress, Lori knew they were counting on her, and she wasn't going to let them down.

* * *

Again, I'm so sorry it took me this long to update this fiction. I hope that the Blues are in character as far as Church and Tucker go. I'm pretty sure I've got the general gist of Caboose though :) He's just... cute. Stupid, but cute. There's more of him in the next chapter, which I am still in the process of writing. It will be up ASAP, I promise!!! And please, PLEASE visit the polls I have. One is in my profile and the other is in my forums. 


	6. Caboose's Insight

Lori spent the rest of the evening tied to the chair for her insolence, but she was nevertheless glad they hadn't gotten anything out of her. Though there were no windows in her room of confinement, her mental clock told her it was nearing five A.M. She had caught only brief moments of sleep, and it was difficult to rest in such an uncomfortable position, but Lori knew that she wouldn't do any good if she was exhausted.

She closed her eyes and tried to sleep, but it simply would not come to her. So instead, she tried to form an escape plan, starting with getting unbound. The chair she was tied to was of the simple metal folding kind. Three horizontal sections of rope bound her upper body, and two sections bound her ankles to the chair legs. She was otherwise unrestrained. Lori wriggled experimentally, and the chair slid across the floor a little. The scratching, screeching noise it issued was louder than Lori wanted it to be, and she cursed as footsteps sounded out in the hall.

The door burst open and Tucker stepped in. "Hey, Red… what are you doing?" he asked shiftily.

"Changing my view," Lori replied coolly, turning the chair to the side.

"Oh… well… stop it. It's loud," Tucker said. Lori rolled her eyes and he shut the door.

Now she needed to rethink her plan. Aside from a cardboard box near her, there was nothing in the room she could use to escape. If she made any more noise, Tucker would come in again.

"Now what?" Lori sighed.

--

"Now what?" Simmons sighed. He had just recounted the fiasco at the Blue base to Grif; he was afraid to approach Sarge after his reaction to the flag getting stolen—if Sarge found out that now the flag _and _one of their own had been captured, he'd probably bust a cap in Simmons' ass.

"Well," Grif said slowly, "maybe we can still negotiate with them."

"Yeah, since I'm sure Sarge will be happy to give up our base for one of us," Simmons replied moodily. As if he didn't already feel bad enough about having to return empty handed.

Grif shrugged. "We could always make something up," he offered.

"Like what? That we have a bomb set to blow up their base if they don't send Lori and the flag back?" Simmons snorted, his voice dripping sarcasm.

"Hey… that could actually work," Grif said seriously, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

"Hey guys," Donut piped up, sticking his head in the doorway to Grif's room, where Simmons and Grif were talking. "Sarge wants to see Simmons, pronto."

The green-eyed, first class private felt his stomach tighten. He had best prepare himself for the worst. Grif gave him a sympathetic look as he exited with Donut.

When Simmons entered Sarge's office, his superior actually looked calm despite the early hour. The greying officer looked up at Simmons as he sat down, his eyes hard. His pose was relaxed, with his feet propped up on his desk and his hands resting behind his head. Simmons didn't dare to break the silence. Once Donut had closed the door behind him, he was alone and isolated with Sarge.

"You didn't git the flag back," Sarge muttered after what seemed like eons. It wasn't a question. "An' now it looks like we got ourselves a hostage situation," he added, scratching at the stubble on his cheek. He sat up, letting his feet drop to the floor and leaned forward on his desk, his hands gripping the wood tightly.

Simmons swallowed hard. He had never seen that wild, manic look in Sarge's eyes before.

"Do you have any idea what you've done?" Sarge asked in a deadly whisper. "DO YOU?!" he roared. Simmons flinched.

"S-sir, we didn't anticipate—" he stuttered.

"Do you know what they'll DO to her?!" Sarge bellowed, drowning out Simmons' timid response.

A horrible image of Lori being tortured flashed through Simmons' mind. What _wouldn't _they do to her?

--

"Caboose, for the last time, I'm NOT a princess, so stop trying to find me a prince and… and… go play solitaire or something!" Lori begged in exasperation. Being tied to a chair _and _being subjected to Caboose's nonsense was far worse than being slapped.

The kindly—but stupid—Blue just smiled. "Aw, that's just your amnesia talking, Princess Lori."

She could have thrown up.

"What about that guy that came here with you last night?" Caboose asked, sitting on the cardboard box he had moved in front of Lori's chair. He clutched a teddy bear to his chest.

Lori looked at him as though he were crazy. "_Simmons_?" She laughed humorlessly. "Yeah, like _that _will ever happen."

Caboose tapped his feet on the floor and sucked on his lower lip, his eyes screwed shut with contemplation. "Hmm… you guys _seemed _close… I mean, like you were all—" he adopted a feminine voice, " 'Forget about me!' and stuff." Lori shook her head.

"I thought he'd be able to get back to the base with the flag," she corrected him.

"But he didn't take your flag back," Caboose pointed out. "He left it."

'_Well, duh,'_ Lori thought.

"So he really does care about you," he continued. "More than the flag. Church says it's super important."

Lori started to explain that the flag was really just something people fought about for bragging rights, but Caboose's next words gave her pause.

"That Simmons guy looked so sad when he left."

She looked at him for a long moment while he hugged his teddy bear, wondering if this was a test set up by Church or if Caboose was really just talking to her. She decided it was the latter.

"He did?" she asked, her tone even. Caboose nodded.

"He looked like he was going to cry," he assured her.

'_Probably because he knew Sarge was going to beat him up later,' _she thought automatically. "That's stupid," she voiced aloud to Caboose. "We hate each other." He looked up at her and shrugged.

"He didn't look like he hated you," he replied before rising and exiting the room.

Lori was left more confused about Simmons than she had ever been before. Caboose's last words echoed in her head. "Hmph. He doesn't care if I live or die anyway," she told herself, going back to forming an escape plan with renewed vigor.

--

"I hope she's alive," Simmons said to himself as he stared up at the ceiling of his bunk. After getting a harsh lecture from Sarge, he felt even worse about screwing up the mission to get the flag back. "She already hates my guts. I bet she'll shoot me when she gets back."

The thought of it somehow brought a smile to his face.

Next door, Grif sat on the side of his bunk, his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands. He let out a long, miserable sigh. "I should have been guarding the flag," he berated himself. "Then none of this would have happened. Lori wouldn't be…" Captured. Gone. It was really the same thing to him. He really… liked Lori. She and Grif actually got along. He had fixed up her bullet wound. She smiled more with him than she did with the other members of the team. Grif was proud of that. Lori was pretty when she smiled.

"…I have a crush on Lori," he finally admitted to himself. That would certainly complicate things. A lot. Especially since Simmons had returned. He looked… _sad _that Lori had been captured. Was Simmons starting to like her too? "But they hate each other," Grif reminded himself." Yeah, they hated each other. Which meant she was free game for Grif.

Right?

That's what Grif hoped. It wasn't like he had to ask Simmons for permission to date her. They weren't dating. They hated each other.

"Yeah," Grif smiled to himself, relieved. "No problem."

Well, no problem besides the fact that they still needed to rescue her.

Grif sighed again. Back to square one.


	7. Punch Drunk

**WARNING!!**: There's some mature content at the end of this chapter!! Just so all of you know. And this was a bitch to upload. Seriously. It took me twenty minutes to even login and upload a document because the computer I use in my third hour class kept freezing up on me. Anyway, just so all of you know.

* * *

The sun rose over Blood Gulch, bringing with it the usual blistering heat. Church peered out at the Red base from atop his own, a grim look on his face. He wondered how long it would be before the Reds responded to Lori's capture. The message he had sent back with Simmons sounded like provocation enough. 

"Whatcha doin', Church?" Caboose asked. His cobalt clad leader spun around with shock.

"Rookie, don't DO that!" Church yelled. That had scared the shit out of him.

Caboose kicked at the concrete roof of the base. "Sorry Church… Um… so… what are we going to do with the princess?" he asked.

"Prin—? Oh," Church replied. "Uh… we're going to send her over there." He pointed at the Red base.

"But I thought that's where we rescued her from," Caboose said, confused.

"Yeah, but we found out that… uh… that's where her prince is. Yeah," Church said evasively. "But we have to get them to…" He thought for a moment. "…to give us a gift in exchange for keeping her so… safe."

Caboose paused, considering Church's words.

"What do you want them to give us?" he asked finally.

"Their base," Church replied matter-of-factly.

Caboose wasn't sure that would go over so well, but he knew Church was a smart guy, so he smiled and nodded. "Okay," he said.

"Go get our prison—I mean princess—and bring her outside," Church ordered, turning to take the stairs back into the base. "I've got a job for her to do."

"'Kay," Caboose chirped, going ahead of Church. He strolled down to Lori's room, whistling the whole way. Tucker stood guard in front of her room.

"Oh, thank God," Tucker said. "I was falling asleep standing guard over here." He rubbed his eyes and stood aside to let Caboose in. Caboose knocked gently on the door; after all, it was the nice thing to do.

Lori jumped, roused from a shallow sleep by the sound. "What?" she spluttered, blinking owlishly.

"Can I come in?" Caboose asked politely. "Your highness," he added. Lori bit back a groan of frustration.

"Yeah, you don't need to ask," she replied.

Caboose opened the door and went straight up to Lori to untie the ropes that bound her. He hummed as he did so.

"What's going on?" Lori demanded, wondering why he was releasing her. Had Church planned something again?

"Church has a job for you," Caboose said, confirming her suspicions. "He told me to take you outside."

Lori nodded in understanding, but from what she had learned of Church, she did not feel comfortable with any of his 'jobs.' Still, she had no choice but to follow Caboose outside. Church was already waiting at the front entrance of the base, his cobalt armor shining purplish red in the dawn light. His helmet was under his arm, and he smiled coldly at her. Lori sneered back.

"Morning, _princess_," Church drawled, sniggering. "We're going on a little trip today."

"Oh, the joy is simply overwhelming," Lori replied in a monotone, giving him the iciest look she could muster.

"Ooh, can I come too?!" Caboose squealed.

"Yeah, sure, rookie. We'll need a bodyguard for our princess anyway," Church replied, grinning at Lori's expression. "Tucker can stay here and watch the base."

"All right!" Caboose cheered, jumping up and down. Church snickered and jerked his head toward the Red base.

"Okay, let's go. Oh and," he muttered as Lori marched past, "try anything and I'll knock you out and drag you."

"I'll make note of it," she spat through gritted teeth.

--

Grif squinted out at the horizon, his eyes red from lack of sleep. All of the previous night, he had tossed and turned with worry. He had finally given up and decided to camp out on the roof. The sun was awfully bright, but through the blaze of light, Grif discerned a small smudge of darkness on the horizon. He shaded his eyes and peered out at the dry landscape. Soon he could make out three individuals: two in shades of blue armor and— his heart beat just a little faster—Lori.

He sprinted inside the base and yelled at the top of his lungs: "GUYS! THE BLUES ARE COMING WITH LORI!"

"Sam Houston's mama, what'd you say?" Sarge uttered gruffly, rushing out of his office. Simmons and Donut soon joined him, roused by Grif's shouting.

"Two Blue guys are heading this way with Lori," Grif explained. "They probably want to negotiate something."

"Well, I'll be damned," Sarge mused. "We best think up a plan then, and quick."

"Definitely," Simmons agreed.

"Suck up," Grif muttered.

Simmons was about to retort when Sarge glared at both of them. "Both of ya shut yer yaps. We don't need no fightin' at a time like this," he said sternly. "Grif," he snapped, all business, "how far are they from th' base?"

"I'd say twenty minutes," Grif replied nervously.

"Well, y'all got twenty minutes to come up with a plan. I got a feelin' them Blue fellers ain't come to wish us howdy doo."

Simmons, Grif, and Donut all nodded, and Sarge ducked into his office, slamming the door behind him. He always shut himself up in there to think. Simmons and Donut turned to Grif and looked at him expectantly. Grif rubbed his temples, thinking fast.

"Okay, this is what we'll do…"

--

"Home sweet home, right Red?" Church smirked as they neared the base.

"Hey, I have a name, you prick," Lori spat, irritated at the reference. "It's Lori." Church shrugged, unfazed.

"I really could care less," was his calm return.

"Once I'm free, I'm castrating you," Lori promised darkly, wishing she had a gun. She didn't even have armor. Everything was back at the Blue base.

Church did not regard Lori's threat, and Caboose just plodded along behind them, humming to himself. Lori sighed, miserable and angry at the same time. As they reached the Red base, she wondered if there was any way out of the situation.

"Hey! Red guys!" Church called. "We've come to negotiate!"

For a moment, no one answered them, but then Sarge appeared atop the base, his red armor glinting in the early morning sun. He jumped down to the ground, landing with an ominous thud. As he straightened, they couldn't see past his visor, but Lori guessed his expression was fierce.

"'The hell do you want?" Sarge demanded, folding his arms. Church cut right to the point.

"In exchange for this chick, we want control of your base."

"We want to talk to her first," Simmons cut in, stepping out from behind Sarge. "We've got to make sure it's really her."

Lori gaped. "Simmons, are you kidding? You _know _it's me—what about the mole on my butt?!"

"You have a mole on your butt?" Caboose asked. "That's so weird."

"Shut up, Caboose," Lori snapped.

"You never know," Simmons interrupted. "You guys might have switched her with a body double. Lori gave him a skeptical look.

"Fine," Church said abruptly. "You guys can take ten minutes to talk to her. But," he added as Lori shoved past him with relief, "she'll wear this so we can hear what's going on." He tossed a belt with a small microphone attached to it at Lori, who grudgingly put it on. "Take your time, sweetie," he said sarcastically as Simmons led her inside. Sarge remained outside to speak with Church and Caboose. Caboose held the receiver to his ear to listen to Lori's conversation.

--

As Lori shut the door behind her, she breathed a huge sigh of relief. Simmons stopped ahead of her and turned around. He took off his helmet. His expression was one of profound relief, but he put a finger to his lips so that Lori would not betray that he knew she was the real her.

"Grif," Simmons barked officiously. Grif stepped out of a side door and proceeded down the hallway towards them. "Here, check her," he said.

Grif nodded and winked at Lori. She was starting to catch on to their plan. "I can't believe you guys don't believe it's me," she said in an affronted manner.

"We'll just have to run a test," Grif said, his tone grim, but his expression warm. He jerked his head to the room he had just come out of, and Lori followed him inside.

Inside was a table with two chairs and a sticky note pad with two pens. Grif held up the first note. It read: _Just play along. We have a plan._ Lori nodded.

"Sit," Grif demanded coldly; even his expression was hard. Lori privately thought it was rather attractive to see him so serious. She sat and Grif quietly seated himself as well, scribbling on another note.

"So what's this test, Grif?" Lori asked, playing off her tone as irritated. Grif held up the note as he responded.

"Well, only the real Lori would know we planted something at the Blue base." _Was there anything in the room where they kept you?_

Lori grinned at the bluff. "Well yeah, of course. In the cardboard box. I was supposed to put a bomb in it, the one you secretly sent me."

Grif looked so triumphant that it seemed he would burst. Now it was a question of whether or not the Blues would take the bait.

--

"Bomb?!" Caboose and Church cried together.

"Son of a bitch!" Church swore.

"That's right," Sarge said smugly, folding his arms. "Y' better git on back t' yer base 'fore Lori sets it off."

Church paused, torn between trying to take down the Red base and saving his own. He had no hope of taking over the Red base with only Caboose, and Lori could destroy their base at any moment, Tucker along with it. Not that he'd mind Tucker getting blown up. He'd never liked him anyway.

"…Fine," he said at length. "Tell her if she disarms the bomb, we'll let her go."

Sarge chuckled good naturedly. "Good man. Now git yer ass on outta here 'fore we do it for ya."

Church gave him a sour look and jammed his helmet onto his head. He looked at Caboose and jerked his head back to the Blue base. "Come on, Caboose. Let's go," he said, his voice bitter.

Caboose nodded, feeling sad to leave the princess behind. "Okay… tell Princess Lori I'll miss her," he said to Sarge as he turned to head back with Church.

Sarge bit back his initial reply and said, "Sure thing, kid." He watched as Church and Caboose walked away, becoming nothing more than smudges on the horizon, then disappearing from view altogether.

--

"Damn it, I didn't think they'd ever think up something like that," Church fumed as they returned to the base. "But how could they have gotten past Tucker? That was the only way in."

"I dunno, Church," Caboose shrugged.

"Shut up, I wasn't talking to you," Church snapped. "Hey, Tucker!" he shouted. Tucker came out of the front door of the base.

"What?" he said.

"Go check the room we put the Red in. Look in the box in there," Church said.

"Why?" Tucker asked.

"The Reds said they put a bomb in it," Church said shortly.

"A bomb?!" Tucker exclaimed. "Son of a bitch!"

"That's what Church said," Caboose put in brightly as Tucker rushed back inside.

--

Back at the Red base, Lori had already smashed the microphone and belt."Are they gone?" Simmons asked Sarge when he returned inside the base. The Red leader took off his helmet and let out a triumphant cackle.

"Went runnin' like a dog with his tail 'tween his legs!" he chortled. "Should've seen the look on his face!"

Grif and Lori burst out of the side room. "They're gone?" Grif asked.

"Yep," Simmons confirmed. Lori pumped a fist into the air.

"Bitchin'!" she cheered. Grif smiled. Simmons and Sarge chuckled. Lori looked at all three of them and smiled gratefully. "Thanks, you guys. I really couldn't have gotten out of all of that myself."

"Well, don't thank all of us," said Donut, who had walked in with a bottle and glasses to celebrate. "Thank Grif. He came up with the whole plan."

Lori turned her face to Grif, astounded. "Really?"

Grif scratched the back of his head, turning a little pink as he laughed nervously. "Well, _someone _had to come up with something," he said modestly.

"…You fucking genius, you!" Lori beamed. It was then that she did something quite unexpected.

She threw herself at Grif and kissed him fiercely.

"…Well… okay," Simons said stupidly, eyebrows raised. Sarge cleared his throat uncomfortably.

Lori pulled away suddenly, her face a little pink. "Oops… uh… sorry," she stuttered. "I guess I got a little carried away."

Grif was silent, his expression determinedly blank, but his face a deeper shade of red. Thankfully, Donut broke the awkward silence.

"So are we celebrating or what?" he asked, popping the cork out of the wine bottle.

"Hell yeah!" Sarge roared, grabbing a glass. Simmons seconded him heartily, and that spurred Grif and Lori to join them. The four of them proceeded to the mess hall, where a huge assortment of food had been laid out for them.

"All right! Food!" Lori shrieked. She was starving. She plopped down at the table and started loading a plate. Sarge sat down on her right, and to his right sat Grif. Simmons sat across from Lori, Donut to his left. Lori's enthusiasm was infectious, the alcohol encouraging chatter as well. Lori finally felt like the Red base was her home. The way everyone's faces were alight with happiness brought comfort to her. They were really glad she was okay.

She was really glad to be home.

--

"There's nothing but junk in it!" Church screeched, kicking the box and sending its contents flying. All it contained was rusted parts to God knew what. No bomb, no detonator, nothing. The Reds had made a complete idiot out of him.

He whirled on Tucker and Caboose, who were looking at him a little nervously. "Don't just stand there!" he snarled. "Go make yourselves useful!" Tucker jumped and immediately marched off, and Church stormed to his room, slamming the door shut behind him. Caboose stood alone in the hall, listening for a moment while Church cursed and threw things from behind his door. Caboose shrugged.

"…I miss Lori," he said after a moment. "She was my friend." With a resigned sigh, he went quietly to his room, closing the door behind him.

--

Hours flew by, and soon the sun was setting over Blood Gulch but the Reds still partied, though with less energy. Lori rested languidly on her bed, a wine bottle on her nightstand. She giggled, her face a little red from the alcohol. Rays of dying sunlight turned her clothes and bed sheets orange and gold, casting rich shadows on her walls. It felt so wonderful to be back. The feeling permeated her, and she sighed contentedly, closing her eyes.

She didn't bother to see who had opened her door, not even when someone crossed the floor to her bed. Whoever it was sat down gently at Lori's side, their weight causing Lori to shift involuntarily toward them.

Lori frowned a little and rubbed her eyes, shading them from the sunlight that streamed through her window. She peered up at her visitor and gasped.

"…Simmons?"

"Hey," he said softly. He smiled a little. "I'm glad you're back."

"Yeah, thanks," Lori replied, suddenly feeling out of place. Why was he saying that, there and then? He could have said so at the table or something. The air suddenly became heavy.

"I… wanted to apologize too," Simmons said slowly. "I… felt bad for letting the Blues get away with kidnapping you like that."

Lori sat up, shrugging. "Thanks, but you don't need to apologize. You…" She wanted to say more, but the alcohol in her system was making her brain fuzzy. What had she wanted to say again? She shrugged. It probably wasn't important.

"It seemed like the right thing to do," Simmons said simply.

Lori chuckled. "You sure don't do _that _very often."

Simmons smiled, the smile turning into a quiet laugh, and then a full out riot. His laughter soon caused Lori to burst into a fit of giggles. She was shaking so badly with laughter that she leaned forward and gripped Simmons' arm for support.

As their laughter faded, Lori wiped her eyes, looking up at Simmons through an alcohol-induced haze. His green eyes seemed to sparkle like emeralds. He smiled, his face drawing nearer and nearer to Lori's.

She suddenly grabbed his face and pressed her lips to his. Simmons held her tightly purely on instinct, slipping his tongue into her mouth. Lori could taste the alcohol on him. She groaned and pulled him down onto her. Simmons shifted and straddled her waist. He broke their heated kissing only to pull off his shirt. Lori gazed up at him her vision blurry. She could feel his hands trailing down her sides and lifting up her tank top. Lori sluggishly lifted her arms as Simmons pulled off the garment, leaving her in only a bra and pants. Her lips trembled as she reached up, letting her fingertips trail down Simmons' bare chest. A sharp pain told her that his mouth had found her neck. She groaned again and pulled herself up against his shoulders. His hands found the clasp of her bra and unhooked it, casting it to the floor.

Lori pushed him suddenly, rolling over him and switching him positions. Her lips once again found Simmons' mouth, and she kissed him roughly, pulling his pants down with her hands. She moaned as Simmons used his hands to familiarize himself with her lower regions. He soon slid her pants and remaining undergarment off.

Lori's head was spinning. All she was conscious of was Simmons trailing kisses all down her torso. She closed her eyes, whimpering softly.

Her eyes snapped open and she gasped as Simmons suddenly pressed himself against her. She gripped the wet and sticky sheets beneath them. She cried out softly as he pushed his way into her. Waves of pleasure rolled over her, one after the other with every thrust of his hips.

Her vision faded into darkness as utter bliss consumed her.

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** LORI IS NOT ATTRACTED TO SIMMONS AT THIS POINT. She's drunk. She obviously has no idea what she's doing. You'll see when I upload the next chapter, which I haven't started writing yet. Trust me though, she is not going to be happy. Also, you can imagine how Grif is going to feel when he finds out about this. 

Another important point: I am extremely disappointed that only one person voted in my poll. I must thank you, Digger2213 for voting. Since you were the only one to vote, I decided to put in a little 'action' between Simmons and Lori. This is the first time I've ever posted such... questionable content anywhere. I toned it down actually. But guys, really. I don't write author's notes just for the sake of writing them. I write them to offer explanations of chapters and information on upcoming ones. They're important!!! So PLEASE bother to read them. They're not long, and often answer a lot of questions!! There's nothing I dislike more (except for flames) than getting a review that asks a question I clearly answered in an author's note. So guys, I'm begging you here: Take my polls. I put them up for a reason. Leave reviews that comment on not only the quality and what could be fixed with each chapter, but what you think you'd like to see in the future. Feedback is the most valuable thing an author can get. Positive feedback anyway. Without reader's suggestions and voicings of what they want to see, authors would not be anywhere.

So PLEASE pay attention to author's notes!!


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